Heroes - Fractured
by Helix17
Summary: 'How to Stop An Exploding Man' never occurred. Peter did not explode. But the world did become aware - a little - of humans with abilities. Now, Peter needs help. He's losing control. The eruption of people with abilities has caused him to recoil from society in fear of causing chaos and giving into the dark pleas of his powers to break free. Nathan, desperate, finds help...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Fractured**

What was going on inside Peter's mind? That was unanswerable to every person who passed him on the streets of New York City. Life had never been the same since he'd discovered his power of empathic mimicry – something he never regretted, but something he also had never come to appreciate either. Not now. His life was a burden to everyone who loved and cared for him since the night at Kirby Plaza, and even more a burden to himself. That night had changed the world for humans with abilities. It was almost as if they were all freed in unity – there was so many living secretly with powers, with a few minorities not so secret and frantic to show their superiority which much of the world shrugged off as madness and flukes.

Peter's power was unlimited. Every day he discovered an addition to his already unquantifiable list of powers his being retained.

It may all have been a lie – he was not the exploding man as predicted. In fact there was never an explosion at all. Well, an explosion of powers that inundated Peter with a crippling pain there was, but nothing of the fiery death painted and foreseen. Since that night, Peter had lost who he used to be, forced into being someone who he didn't yet know himself, but knew wasn't connected to the world of those he should and used to care about more than anything in his life. Don't misunderstand, he still cared for them, but he feared for them more above all else. He was unpredictable now.

His ever-growing powers created rifts between everyone and everything. If he got angry, he could cause the ground to shake underneath him as if the heavens quivered in fear at his potential for destruction. If he felt lost, the skies could become darkened with growling thunder that echoed throughout the city and far beyond. If he felt happiness, it was quashed by the immense pain of retaining every ability he had acquired, many unknowingly and still dormant. But he could feel them inside. Every time he got too close to anyone, he felt the growing hunger of his leashed powers erupt into violent pulses that trickled along his skin. They almost spoke to him – telling him to just let go, to release them and let them rule over his mind and body. It was an internal fight he was positive he could never win, yet, each day he managed to suppress the urge to let the darkness control him.

So he remained away from people as much as he could. Inside his apartment, he remained pressed to the wall, hunched over with his head in his hands telling himself that in that moment he would not lose. He would never lose. But in each moment he felt the powers swell just a little more, as if they were their own entity inside of him recruiting for the inevitable overhaul of his mind.

'Peter,' followed by a clacking on his door urged a jolt of horror to surge through Peter's body as his gaze shot to the door. 'Pete, open up. It's me.'

Peter grimaced; he'd told Nathan to leave him be. Two months since Kirby Plaza had seen Peter drown in obscurity and the shadows. Nathan had come by every day since, demanding to see him, telling him that Peter wouldn't hurt him or anyone else and that he could help.

'Lies,' Peter hissed. 'No one can help me.'

'Peter, you need to open this door. This needs to stop.' Nathan had been there for the first few days since Kirby Plaza, by his brother's side, witnessing how Peter had been overwhelmed with ever-coming abilities that spiralled out of his control. He'd seen how Peter, in a moment of panicked rage, crushed the bodies of every car down one of the many compacted roads of Manhattan. He'd seen how, when reached out to – both touch and words – the air grew thin and breathless, suffocating and dizzying everyone around as Peter recoiled in fear of killing someone.

He'd told Peter that it would all be fine, that they would find a way to help him control his powers like before where he could call upon an individual ability, or even a combination, without the potential of chaos. But Nathan was unsure of how to help, and Peter could sense as well as hear that in his mind as he growled at Nathan to let him be like all the times before. Nathan never listened, of course, and always proceeded to attempt to open the door by force. It was futile. Peter had barraged the door with tangible force which sealed him inside his apartment, away from civilisation and the living. Nathan had even tried the windows a few times at night, but Peter needn't even blink to propel the barrier of force outward to push Nathan away. He knew that Nathan had given up a lot to help him. His marriage to Heidi had crumbled, along with his campaign and cares of anything else in the world.

'Pete, Hunter is here again. He can help.'

Peter smirked. Hunter Trent. The guy Nathan had recruited to help his insane little brother. The guy with the ability of emotion manipulation Nathan had found by prowling through the records which Mohinder had cautiously allowed Nathan to study. Nathan thought that Hunter would solve it all; make his little brother tranquil and void of emotion and there would be no fear of losing control.

He was wrong. Peter was immune to all powers practically, especially the mental kind. He could take them, use them, and defer them. No matter how much one with a ability might try, Peter would never fall under their power, just like how Hunter's power was useless for him. But Nathan couldn't understand that, and neither apparently could Hunter.

'Leave!' screamed Peter, his body convulsing in a mix of anger and dwindling restraint. 'I can't control it for much longer.' He wiped his brow which was dabbed in sweat of exhaustion and exertion of control.

'Then let us help you,' began Nathan. There was s light hesitation before he continued, 'Hunter isn't the only one here. There's someone else, Pete.' Peter's eyes frantically zoomed to the ceiling then back to the door. 'Hunter's sister is here. She wants to help you.'

That caused Peter's body to violently shake – he could feel the powers imploding inside of him at the mention of a new name. The walls seemed closer. The air rippled in anxious sways of heat. His head throbbed with sears of screaming thoughts and commands. His hands clenched his arms over his legs, pulling himself into a tight ball against the wall as he felt the inferno of power rising and coming. He looked to the door, it becoming translucent to his empowered eyes – another power acquired somewhere along the line – allowing him to see the three on the other side of his walls.

Nathan had his head pressed to the door, a look of defeat straining his face. Hunter wore an expression of apparent thoughtfulness and contemplation, but it was when Peter shifted his unsteady gaze to Hunter's sister his mind silenced a little. Her face was determined yet afraid, young yet experienced.

'My name is Trinity,' said the girl. 'I can help – I want to.'

Peter's gaze narrowed in confusion: How could she possibly help what I've become? She looked so fragile and small compared to Nathan and her brother. She brushed her fingers against the wall, and Peter could feel the delicacy of her touch. There was something in that touch that was different. Not bad. Not evil. Hope? Maybe.

Peter's body instantly ripped apart inside – something...was wrong. He felt torn. He could suddenly see so many others, not quite here in the world, but not unattached either, outlined with a misted aura which radiated like tendrils of living light. They walked, and flew and fell through the walls and floor; they whispered inaudible utterances and passed by Peter without acknowledging his existence.

'What..?' He exhaled sharply.

'Welcome,' said Trinity, stepping through the barrier created and withheld by Peter into his apartment; a gentle smile gracing her red pale lips, 'to the world of The Void.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

'The Void?' Peter stuttered, pushing further into the wall the closer Trinity came towards him. 'What is this place? How is this happening?'

She smiled softly at him; there was no judgement in her eyes at the state Peter or his apartment was in. 'This,' she said, 'is my ability. I guess you now have it too, just like Nathan and my brother said.' She stopped a few feet from where Peter was hunched, stooping to a crouch. 'I can be part of this world, or part of the living world. I am neither dead nor dying, but neither do I have to be living, if I wish.'

Peter watched as spirits rushed to and thro through his apartment, horizontally, vertically. The conversed with each other, they laughed and joked, they hugged or fought – they were as alive in death as life ever offered to them. The differences were sparse between the worlds however. The Living world now, to Peter, became hollow and cold; defined details of living were too perfect and dull, such as rooms, landscapes, even people. Everything was opaque. Everything was unadventurous or, for better use of explanation, the world of the living contradicted the word 'living' itself. People were shells. They had hearts that pumped life through their mortal bodies, but mentally they were lost, never fully at peace because every instinct of human nature tells them that one day they are going to die, and to prolong death for as long as is possible. They live in fear, albeit fear that is not always at the forefront of their minds, but a fear that never stops whispering to them either. The world of the dead was vibrant and rhythmic, wisps of aura and light flowed everywhere; outside Peter saw the high rises of archaic structures and buildings which were draped in vines of vivid colours, and an aurora of travelling spirits streaming across the skies. All of The Void was unseen by the living, but all to be seen by the living eventually.

'This is what is going to help you, Peter,' muttered Trinity, gazing outwards to the wonders of the dead world.

'How?' Peter asked in wonderment. He could still feel the burning of his powers inside his body, the way they shrieked and clawed internally to be let out – to explode.

'Here, you can hurt no one; you can destroy nothing that cannot be remoulded and regenerated. Here,' she began, a wicked smile flashing across her face, 'those who die, live.'

Peter remembered every emotion he had felt the instant he hovered in the air whilst accusing Nathan of lying to him about having an ability. He felt like he was finally someone in a world where everyone else had a place, and he was merely the shadow of every human on the planet. He didn't have an identity or a meaning to his life which so many other people relished.

'It's my turn to be somebody now, Nathan!' he had bellowed from high above every other person in the city, and what to him felt like the world. It was the moment he knew difference, and what it felt like to finally become something more than what he was – who he was. He felt alive and invigorated to become somebody who could make a difference in the world which he saw was suddenly a hundred times bigger and freer than what it was before.

But now, in this moment, with his throbbing body withholding cataclysmic potential for destruction, and the new girl, Trinity, Peter had never felt so lost and cold. Perhaps it was a cruel joke that for the past few months he had been allowed to believe he was someone who could change the lives of others for the better, only now to be finally told it would be for the worse.

Trinity studied his face intently as he went back in his mind to the times that felt like years ago. Her hair wafted serenely in the phantom light, and her face was placid and curious. 'Tell me Peter,' she said, 'do you ever get the feeling like you are meant to do something extraordinary?'

Peter's gaze linked to her own. Those words he knew only too well as if he had uttered them every day of his existence. They were the words of a once curious man who sought answers to the question of being different and unique. They were the words that now pained and haunted Peter's mind beyond comprehension, for they were what lead him to who he had once strived to be but now feared being amongst anything else –special.

'Well?' She asked, her head tilting to the right in wonder.

'I did,' replied Peter in a strained voice. 'But now I want to feel nothing further from it.'

She nodded slowly. 'That's a shame,' she said. 'I know so many of these spirits who would never dream to say the same – and they can't go back to make a difference. You can.'

'What if I don't want to? What if...I lose control?' Peter's body instantly convulsed at the word. Control. Would he ever have it?

A soft laugh rose in her throat for an instant before she shook her head saying: 'What if you find it? What if, when you do, you can look around at this place,' she signalled around her, 'and realise not living in life and finding the answer to your problem is better than living forever in death with the same problem? A problem that will destroy you.'

The spirits proceeded to fly past, gliding through each other; some looked serene and at peace, but others – they were anything but restful. One in particular caught Peter's attention. It was the spirit of a young man, no older than twenty-five; no expression of happiness hinted on his face as if he was never aware there was such an emotion. He leant against Peter's wall, head back leaning against the framed picture of Nathan and Peter, not that he was aware through his own thoughts that harassed his mind. His rustled chestnut hair cautiously dabbed his face in comfort, but he would keep slapping it away, each time releasing a pained cry – a name. 'Alana!' he would repeat, each time with more intensity and sorrow. 'Alana!' he screamed. 'Alana run, Alana!' The fear in his eyes as he reached out with his hand was frantic, almost praying. 'Alana!' he cried once more before an intense bang exploded and his chest sharply sprayed sprinkles of dark liquid. He fell away into the wall, fading into nothing at which point Peter just stared horrified. He was unprepared for such a sight, but, it was only when the young man reappeared in a misted cloud that placed him back against the wall did Peter realise the young man was in his own, isolated echo of heartbreak.

Trinity had followed Peter's gaze; her eyes glistened with tears that told of familiarity of the sight.

'Sometimes I wonder why I ever come back here. But then I remember it is to remind me that his eternity should be no one else's.' She brushed away the tears that streamed down her cheeks, turning away from the crying young man. 'So answer me this again, Peter. Do you ever get the feeling like you are meant to do something extraordinary?'

Peter's focus had never once left the young man throughout the time Trinity spoke. It hurt to watch it repeat over and over again. There was no escape for him. There was nothing to end the repetition – it would continue forever? That was when Peter felt riddled with guilt. No matter how much the powers inside screamed at him to ignore the sight before him, he only had to look at the young man to realise that Trinity was right. No one else could die to live like this.

'I asked to be extraordinary,' said Peter. 'I promised I'd make the world a better place.'

'And you can,' replied Trinity. 'But not in this world.' She looked to the young man once more, 'They've already lived their lives. No matter how long you watch, you can't change it. But you can change so many endings to those who are out there now, living. Just believe it.'

Peter finally tore his gaze from the man. He used to believe he could save everyone. 'Save the cheerleader, save the world', as was once what he fixated on. He used to believe that he was meant for something more than being just a nurse who saved people one person at a time. And now what was he doing? What was he doing?

'I can't hide anymore,' he finally said. His fists clenched. 'I can't hide.'


End file.
